Amidst the wreckage, a tiny, shivering green creature whimpered. It was a goblin infant, no larger than a loaf of bread, wrapped in coarse burlap.
But she does not point it at Rinn.
Tatter looked up at her with those ancient, moon-yellow eyes. “You gave your gown for a goblin you did not know. We are the same kind of strange.” The Queen Who Adopted a Goblin